


Melted Ice and Thermal Hearts

by howshouldipresume



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Cold Weather, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27835099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howshouldipresume/pseuds/howshouldipresume
Summary: Wherein Merlin goes from being cold and confused to warm and confused, Arthur accidentally learns gift giving is a love language, and socks are more trustworthy than neckerchiefs.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 257
Collections: Merlin Holidays 2020





	Melted Ice and Thermal Hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDragon/gifts).



> Happy Merlin Holidays, TheDragon! I hope I have done the first of your prompts justice. This was my first time doing any sort of gift exchange challenge and I had fun with it! I hope you enjoy reading it :) Thank you to the mods for all your work organizing and running this! May all your holidays be bright, your hearts warm, and immune systems resilient in these times.
> 
> Set somewhere amid S3 except Gwaine's already a knight.

“I’m cold.”

Arthur sighed, trudging forward towards the end of the woods.

“It’s winter Merlin.”

Merlin winced as his foot hit a rock that was hidden under the snow. “Aren’t all the animals sleeping through the winter? What could possibly be out here in the snow for you to kill?”

“Not all the animals _Mer_ lin or do you think the sausages you stole from my lunch were made of cabbage?” Arthur said. They had reached the edge of Lake Carreg, which had frozen over for the winter. He took a careful step onto the ice.

“Well you would certainly know about cabbage being a _cabbagehead_ wouldn’t you,” Merlin muttered, not quite under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing Sire, just the sound of my teeth chattering,” Merlin lied brightly. He let his teeth chatter a moment for full effect.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Every winter, all you do is complain about being cold for months.”

“Maybe that’s because, it is, in fact, COLD—” Merlin said, gesturing dramatically to the frozen ice and snow surrounding them.

“I don’t know why you make such a big deal about a few flakes of snow—”

“—I know you can be cold-blooded but even you have to admit—”

**_crrrrrrraaaaaAAAAAAAACCCCK._ **

A loud, resounding crack replaced Merlin’s last syllable. For a moment he held his breath, unmoving from his place on the ice.

Time slowed.

Briefly, Merlin worried he had stopped it with his magic, only that couldn’t be because Arthur was turning sharply toward him and the ice under his feet was giving way and Arthur looked horrified and the water was cold freezing cold and he heard a yell that might’ve come from him and he was falling…

falling….

falling.

***************

“MERLIN!”

Arthur dropped to his knees and then down onto his elbows and chest, inching as close as he could to the edge of the ice to peer into the dark waters. He barely spared a thought as to whether the ice would collapse underneath him as well.

“MERLIN!” he bellowed again into the water to no avail. His heart raced and his muscles tensed as Arthur prepared himself to jump into the water himself.

Only—he swore. With all this ridiculous armour and chainmail he was likely to sink just as fast.

Arthur used his elbows to scoot even closer to the gap in the ice. He ripped his left glove off, and plunged his whole arm into the icy depths, flinching at the stinging cold water.

“C’mon Merlin,” he muttered through gritted teeth. He leaned even further in, gripping the ice with his other hand to keep his balance until the water was practically lapping at his chin. Arthur flexed his hand in the water, waving it around in a desperate attempt to make contact with any part of his idiot friend to no avail.

He should have jumped in anyways. By now it could already be too late—the cold paralyzing Merlin’s muscles, Merlin swimming up only to hit more ice, Merlin struggling for breath, sinking—

Fingers brushed the palm of his submerged hand.

Arthur reached further, shoulder straining, following the fingers until he got a firm grip around a familiar lanky arm. A hand grasped at his own arm, and Arthur _pulled_. He pulled and pulled, leaning back on his other elbow for leverage when finally, Merlin’s head emerged from the water, coughing and sputtering. Arthur kept hauling him forward, crawling backwards on the ice and tugging Merlin along until the rest of him was freed from the water and sprawled along the ice.

“Gods Merlin, I thought you were a goner.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” Merlin replied hoarsely.

Arthur squeezed his arm. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay.”

For a long moment, they lay face to face on the ice, arms clasped, gasping for breath.

Then, from one breath to the next, Merlin was suddenly wracked with chills. “I—I’m cold,” Merlin chattered, letting go of Arthur to push himself up from the ice. “A-Arthur I’m—I’m _r-really cold_.”

Arthur felt a chill run through him as well.

He sat up slowly, taking in the other man’s soaking wet appearance, the ice below them, and the snowy woods that stretched out for miles around them. The sharp relief he had felt at sight of Merlin resurfacing vanished. Arthur clenched his jaw tightly.

Merlin’s eyes tracked the movement and his gaze grew more fearful, as he reached a shaking arm to wipe fruitlessly at his wet hair dripping icy water onto his brow.

***************

It was almost dark outside by the time they had crawled carefully off the frozen lake, wrung Merlin’s clothing out the best they could, and walked back to the cave they had sheltered Llamrei at with the rest of their supplies in order to hunt the last leg on foot. The temperature had unhelpfully begun to drop to even cooler levels as the sun began its descent. 

Arthur dropped the wood he had picked up along the way into a pile and moved quickly over to Llamrei, giving her a brief stroke as she twitched an ear back in greeting. He darted a glance at Merlin as he rummaged through their packs. His manservant stood staring blankly ahead with his arms tightly crossed in his still wet clothes. He had stopped shivering a ways into their trek back, which wouldn’t have alarmed Arthur if Merlin hadn’t started tripping over himself instead, mumbling nonsense whenever Arthur tried to get him to talk.

Arthur looked away and successfully managed to pull out two heavy wool blankets.

“Here,” Arthur said, handing them to Merlin. He only just managed to stop himself from flinching when Merlin’s cold hands grazed his. “Strip out of your clothes and wrap yourself in these. I’ll get a fire going so we can set them out and hopefully have them dry by morning.”

He turned to give Merlin some privacy. He unsheathed his sword and crouched to place it carefully on the ground before moving to start the fire. Arthur's own hands were stiff, although he’d never admit it, and it took him a few tries to strike the flint. Finally, it lit, and Arthur breathed a heavy sigh at the sudden warmth. He held his hands as close as he could to the flame, rubbing feeling back into his fingers. 

He forced himself to stand up and turned back towards Merlin.

His manservant stood, now bare-chested and in socked feet, with one of the blankets wrapped tightly around his shoulders while the other had fallen to the floor. He struggled obviously in keeping the blanket wrapped around him while simultaneously trying to undo the laces of his breeches.

Arthur moved over wordlessly to help him. Together they got the rest of Merlin’s wet things off and wrapped up in both wool blankets, sitting so close to the fire he was practically in it. Arthur wrung the rest of the water out of Merlin’s clothes the best he could, cringing out how threadbare the fabric felt under his hands. He laid everything down on the other side of the fire. He only hoped they would all dry by morning.

They didn’t have much, having expected to make it back to Camelot before dark, but Arthur was able to rustle up enough to make a simple broth with some snow and the dried meat they had brought with them. They ate in silence, Arthur keeping a careful eye on Merlin as he fumbled a little with his bowl.

Eventually, Arthur gathered the bowls to clean and moved to check on the clothes. He bent down, laying a palm on Merlin’s tunic. Still wet. Arthur added another log to the fire.

He looked up from where he was crouched and met Merlin’s lucid gaze through the flames. A shiver unrelated to the cold went down his spine.

“How are you doing?”

“I-I’m fine Arthur. Really,” Merlin said, visibly trying to suppress his teeth from chattering. “I’m feeling a-a lot warmer.

“You’re shaking again,” Arthur said bluntly.

“It’s a g-good thing,” Merlin protested.

Arthur wasn’t sure about that, but he had to admit Merlin was already looking a little less pale, likely from both the food and the fire, his cheeks having regained some of their flush and his nose red with cold. And he was talking sense again at least. The shivering man licked his chapped lips under Arthur’s scrutiny, and attempted to give a shaky smile of reassurance.

“We should get some sleep.”

Merlin nodded and turned to lay down. Even from a distance, Arthur could see the tremors wracking through his body under the bundle of blankets. He sighed and began to undo his vambrace. Once free of his armour, he tugged off the chainmail and inspected his own tunic. The left arm stuck wetly to his skin. Arthur pulled it off as well, tensing as the cold air hit his bare skin, and moved to set it out with the rest of the drying clothes.

Eventually he moved over to Merlin. He was curled up in a tight ball under the two blankets, as close to the fire as he could get. Arthur nudged at his side with a foot.

“Alright budge over.”

Merlin startled. “What—A-Arthur, r-really I’m alright. You’ve done enough, h-honest,” Merlin protested weakly, watching as Arthur knelt down and shifted the blankets to cover them both.

Arthur ignored him and prodded the other man until he reluctantly turned back onto his side. Mollified, he slid behind him and wrapped a solid arm around Merlin’s chest, tugging him until his back rested firmly against Arthur’s own bared chest. He adjusted the blankets more tightly around them, pillowing his head on his other hand. Merlin’s skin was still cold to the touch, and he rubbed his hand in circles along his chest hoping to get the blood flowing.

“Arthur—”

“Just—shut up Merlin.”

Merlin hesitantly rested his own arm along the one Arthur had wrapped around him. Already his shivering seemed to ease a bit, and slowly he relaxed into the hold. For once, he heeded Arthur’s advice and kept his mouth shut.

***************

Arthur awoke stretched on his back with a warm weight along his chest and a rock digging into his shoulder. He blinked his eyes open, twisting slightly to rub at his bruised flesh. The weight on his chest remained unmoving. Arthur stared half-asleep at the rumpled head of hair curled into the crook of his neck. Merlin had lodged himself neatly into Arthur’s side, his right arm and most of himself draped across Arthur’s chest under the blankets. Arthur had his own arm wrapped around Merlin in a firm hold.

Arthur took the calmness of the morning to just let himself breathe. The cold air on his face sharply contrasted with the warmth he felt radiating from Merlin in their small huddle of blankets. He turned his neck, scanning the cave. Llamrei was likely dozing where she stood with her side to the wall of the cave. Oddly enough, their fire still had a low flame burning, even though it had likely been hours since Arthur had last added to it. There was light of dawn breaking in from the mouth of the cave. Fortunately, all seemed to be quiet.

Arthur looked back down at Merlin. He tensed his arm unconsciously around the other man, tightening the embrace. At least Merlin had finally warmed up if the heat emanating from him was any sign. Arthur let out a quiet sigh and closed his eyes again.

He opened them with a jolt.

Merlin was _emanating heat._

“Merlin? Merlin.” Arthur shook him gently, reaching his right hand up to try and gently pry the other man’s face toward him. He cursed under his breath as his fingers made contact with feverish skin. Merlin made an unhappy noise and resisted the touch, trying to burrow further into Arthur.

“C’mon Merlin you need to wake up. Open your eyes for me,” Arthur said, trying to hide his concern with a stern tone. He tugged gently on the ear exposed to him until Merlin made a disgruntled sound, finally lifting his head and opening his eyes groggily to look up at Arthur.

Arthur inhaled sharply.

For a moment golden eyes stared back at him.

And then Merlin blinked sleepily, and the familiar blue returned, albeit in a much glassier, unfocused gaze than usual. Arthur swallowed.

“Arthur?” Merlin croaked out, wincing at his hoarse voice. “Wh’ss it?”

“You—” Arthur stopped himself. Tried again. “We need to get going. You’re burning up.”

Merlin frowned. “’m not burning, I’m cold.”

“You have a fever Merlin. I need to get you to Gaius. Can you sit up?”

With Arthur’s urging, Merlin slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, pulling the blankets more tightly around himself as he shivered from the loss of Arthur’s warmth. He shifted closer to the withering fire—which sparked a little higher as if sensing Merlin’s presence.

Arthur stood, rolling his neck and shoulders in a quick stretch. He pretended not to notice Merlin’s gaze tracking him and moved to check on their clothes. Thankfully the trousers, socks, and neckerchief had dried well, but Merlin’s blue tunic and jacket were still damp. His own tunic had fared better however, and Arthur didn’t bother to spare a thought before passing it, the socks, and Merlin’s trousers to the other man.

“Can you put these on? You can keep the blankets with you for the ride,” Arthur told him, waiting for a nod before turning and shrugging Merlin’s own tunic on himself. He grimaced at the damp fabric, pulling at the tight sleeves before moving to pull on the rest of his gear.

Soon enough Arthur was guiding a bleary-eyed Merlin atop the horse and sliding on behind him. He drew the blankets carefully around the other man before wrapping his arms around his waist and grabbing hold of the reins.

“Think you can stay upright?”

“Mhmm,” Merlin responded, already slumping back into Arthur. The Prince sighed, adjusting his hold, and kicked lightly at Llamrei as they started the journey home.

***************

Gaius took one look at Merlin and immediately guided him to sit by the fire as he began to gather various herbs and his mortar. 

“G-Gaius I’m alright really, Arthur’s just overreacting,” Merlin protested weakly, his words at complete odds with his uncontrollable shivering and heavy-lidded eyes glazed with fever, as he leaned heavily into Arthur for support. Arthur rolled his eyes and deposited the man where Gaius instructed.

“The idiot fell through the ice yesterday, Gaius, and woke up with a fever. Don’t listen to a thing he says. He’s delirious. He’s been shaking from the cold all day.”

Merlin lifted his hands up to the flame. “T-That’s because it is c-cold! F-far too cold to h-have been out hunting in the first p-place.”

“Maybe with your weak constitution. Not all of us freeze at the sight of snow _Mer_ lin. Your shaking is probably what broke the ice in the first place.”

Gaius raised a sharp eyebrow.

Merlin glared back although the effect was dampened by the bundle of blankets Gaius was piling over him. “Actually, I b-believe it was your thick skull that was too heavy to support.”

Gaius chose this moment to interrupt them. “However this happened, it’s obvious you both need your rest. Merlin, from the looks of you I’m worried the cold has only just begun to settle into your lungs. I’ll make a balm while you dry off.” Merlin nodded, chastened.

“I don’t want to see you until you can stand without falling over in distress you understand?” Arthur said sternly, pointing an accusing finger at the bundled man. 

At this, Merlin cocked his head to the side insolently. “Never c-concerned you before has it, when I do c-collapse, I don’t know why it should m-matter now,” he responded with dripping sarcasm.

Arthur opened his mouth for another retort but was stopped by Gaius shooing him out the door. He left with a huff, determined to abandon all thoughts of how frozen or feverish his manservant was in favor of ordering the nearest servant to draw him a hot bath.

* * *

A much warmer number of hours later, Merlin’s final words were playing unbidden in Arthur’s head. He knew Merlin likely didn’t mean it any more than their usual banter, but something had struck a nerve. The thing was, Arthur _did_ notice Merlin. Too much probably. And so, perhaps, it was possible he overcorrected sometimes by pretending he didn’t notice when Merlin stuck even closer to him on hunting trips and expeditions. Merlin always stayed close of course, often to an aggravating degree, but in the winters, it was less of a pigeon-like hovering and more of a comfort when Merlin grumbled at Arthur to budge over before gluing himself next to his side by the fire on cold nights or when he woke up to Merlin curled practically in his arms.

Regardless, it had been an especially harsh winter this year. Arthur felt his shoulders tense at the thought alone. Merlin was already just a scrawny thing after all, and he had looked so frail and cold coming out of the water—

“Well? Are you just going to stand there or was there something you actually needed?” Morgana chided, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

She sat at her dressing table with her head turned towards Arthur, as she lit an incense of some kind in front of her. It smelled to Arthur of cedar.

Arthur cleared his throat from where he stood in the doorway. 

“Morgana. A pleasure as always.”

“Of course it is.” She turned back to her mirror and leaned to grab a small brown bag from the drawer. Arthur observed her for a moment before taking a few steps further into her chambers. She seemed to be in a good mood, but he was always cautious these days of how quickly that could change. He stopped by the table, hovering uneasily.

Morgana threw him another glance. “Well? Spit it out, whatever has got you looking so rigid,” she said shutting the drawer. She opened the drawstring bag and pulled out what appeared to be gems of some sort. Morgana paused to look up at Arthur. “I can only assume it’s about Merlin,” she mused.

Arthur’s eyes widened slightly before he caught himself and schooled his face into a neutral expression.

Morgana, unconvinced by this display, smirked. “Don’t worry dear Prince, I may have many skills, but mind reading is not one of them. Guinevere told me Merlin’s fallen ill after your little hunting expedition out in the snow."

Her tone hardened at this, although she retained her smirk, obviously gaining pleasure at Arthur’s discomfort. He crossed his arms defensively.

“Yes, well, it seems the winters in Ealdor were never so harsh. It’s not my fault he doesn’t know how to dress himself every time we go outdoors.”

“Didn’t he fall into a lake?”

Arthur pursed his lips. “Look if you aren’t going to be helpful—"

Morgana rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so touchy, you know I am always happy to help. Come sit, before you pull a muscle from that frown of yours,” Morgana said, gesturing flippantly at her bed. Arthur held out for a moment longer before giving in. He walked over to bed and collapsed onto it with a sigh, leaning back on his hands.

“I thought maybe I should get him something. For the winter. I just don’t know what.”

“What about that ratty brown thing he thinks is a jacket? I personally would love to see that thing replaced. Or possibly burned.”

Arthur groaned. “Believe it or not, I actually _have_ tried to get him to get rid of it. He didn’t take too kindly to it then and I doubt anything has changed. That’s the problem! He doesn’t---I don’t—” words failing him, Arthur groaned again and shifted to rest his elbows on his knees so he could bury his face in his hands in despair.

Morgana turned back around shaking her head. “Alright no need for dramatics. So, Merlin doesn’t take kindly to his _things_ being messed with,” she droned. “No surprise there,” she added under her breath. Arthur lifted his head puzzled but she moved on before he could think too much about it.

“Then the easy answer is to simply get him what he wants and does not already have.”

Arthur lifted his head and blinked.

“Like what?”

Morgana stared at him intensely. “You’re the one who spends every minute with him. You tell me.”

Arthur hummed in thought. “He is always rubbing his palms together. And his hands are always horribly freezing when he dresses me in the mornings. Do you think I should get him some gloves?”

Morgana stared at him for a moment, and then turned completely back around.

“Gloves should work,” she said dismissively. But Arthur felt elated.

“Thank you Morgana,” Arthur said sincerely, and reached out to squeeze Morgana’s shoulder in gratitude before heading out the door. He missed the sharp look of surprise she sent him at the touch.

* * *

Arthur walked down the hall toward Gaius’ chambers with a thrill of excitement. After wandering the markets all afternoon, he had come upon an excellent pair of dark brown leather gloves, lined warmly with rabbit fur. The merchant had offered to have them stitched with the Pendragon crest, but Arthur had refrained.

He would be lying if he said he hadn’t considered it for a moment, struck suddenly and quite strangely by the image of Merlin decked out in royal garb—a long royal blue coat embellished with a glimmering Pendragon crest, wearing similarly marked gloves and his stupid smile. Thankfully he had quickly shaken the image out of his head and his senses had kicked in to remind him more properly what Merlin had looked like in that feather hat Arthur had brought out to tease him with all those years ago.

He smiled fondly at the memory and entered into the physician’s chambers.

“Gaius, how is he?”

The old man looked up from where his stood, flipping through an old tome. “Not too well at the moment, Sire, but I believe in two weeks’ time he should be back to his normal self. Did you come to see him? I’m afraid I just managed to get him to sleep with some draught.”

“No, that’s fine I just wanted to check in with you and—” Arthur looked down at the parcel containing the gloves, and his excitement left him abruptly. He found himself feeling quite foolish for no discernible reason. It was absolutely normal to provide for your manservant. Morgana bought Guinevere gifts all the time! And these gloves weren’t even that—alright, so they were perhaps a bit nicer than someone of Merlin’s station would have.

“Sire?”

Arthur thrust the package awkwardly out at Gaius. “These are for Merlin. Whenever he is able to get back to work of course. It’s nothing. Just. Some gloves. For the winter. Seeing as its been cold.” He fought back a cringe at his own stammering.

Gaius raised his eyebrows, but kindly refrained from commenting. “Very well, I will set it aside for him. That reminds me,” Gaius moved over toward the table and picked up a folded garment. He brought it over and held it out for Arthur, his raised eyebrows tilting at a rather insinuating angle.

“I believe this is yours, Sire.”

Arthur looked down to see his own red tunic that he had Merlin wear for the ride back.

“Yes, right, I had to wear his,” Arthur looked up and paused at Gaius’ expression. “I mean, because we had put them out to dry for the night while we--,” he shut his mouth abruptly. Gaius stared back calmly. Arthur swallowed down last night's memories and redirected. “I’ll have the laundresses send it over.”

He gave Gaius a nod and turned swiftly on his heel, leaving the room at an entirely reasonable pace.

* * *

The problem was, Arthur mused to himself some days later, as he absently browsed an interesting pair of shoes displayed by what appeared to be skilled cobbler, the blasted servant that had replaced Merlin was quite annoying. This was the only explanation for why Arthur found himself wandering the markets for the fourth time that week. Which really meant the problem was Merlin himself, because if the idiot hadn’t decided to fall into a lake and freeze half to death, Arthur wouldn’t be forced to constantly flee from his own chambers to avoid having sixteen different plates presented for him at breakfast. Or see this not-Merlin scrubbing the chamber floors for what had to be the hundredth time. 

On that note, it was also clearly Merlin’s fault that Arthur felt so disturbed by the sight of a polite and well-mannered servant in the first place.

The fact that Merlin was responsible for Arthur having to keep escaping the citadel, however, didn’t entirely explain how Arthur had ended up buying the man more and more things. After the gloves had come a pair of thick wool socks. Which, really, Arthur had needed a new pair for himself, seeing as Merlin never got the damn things darned. It was no thought to buy an extra pair and drop it off with Gaius.

The deep cerulean blue winter cloak was a little harder to justify. Arthur had passed by it in the market and stopped short at the sight of the blue fabric. It was a heavy fabric with a fur lined hood—and yes, maybe the color had reminded Arthur of the way Merlin’s blue eyes lit up when he laughed, or smiled at Arthur by the firelight, or—whatever the cause, he had paid the merchant without so much of a barter much to the man’s delight.

And the ginger-root infused honey was for Gaius just as much as it was for Merlin. It had been hard to ignore the wet rasping coughs coming from Merlin’s room after he stopped by to drop off the cloak. He was sure Gaius wasn’t getting much sleep if he had to hear Merlin hacking up a lung every night. The beekeeper’s daughter had a stall set up in a corner of the market with a collection of different infused honeys. It took a minute and barely any coin to get a recommendation for the best honey to soothe such a cough, and the gratitude Gaius had expressed on that particular delivery was more than worth it.

It was a nice change from the alarmed, ever-raising eyebrows Gaius had been sending him every other time he had stopped by, anyway. He had yet to see Merlin himself during these visits, Gaius kindly providing him any updates instead.

Arthur reached the end of the row where the stalls began to shift from clothing into fresh produce. He let himself wander into the foray of fruits and vegetables for a brief moment, watching an old man haggle the price of potatoes while a little girl used the distraction to sneakily snatch a permission and run back to her giggling friend hiding behind a snowbank. Then he gathered himself and doubled back to do another pass through for the fourth or fifth time. He kept his own hood up, although the shopkeepers had become more accustomed to the sight of the Crown Prince these days.

He slowed as he neared a particular stall. Arthur had come by earlier to admire a beautifully stained red silk fabric. It was a brilliant Pendragon red. As bold as the knights' cloaks. He had kept walking, but every time he passed the stall, the barest hint of an idea in his mind grew stronger. This time he let himself give in to temptation and stopped to finger the delicate fabric, appreciating the lavish texture.

“Your Highness, you have exquisite taste. That is the last of a single spool of silk, traded for up in the mountains after a chance meeting with some travelers from the far East,” remarked the greying woman running the stall. She reached out and gently unfurled the spool to lay the fabric out for Arthur’s appraisal.

“As you can see the material is extremely luxurious. Fit for a king, and most certainly the son of one.”

A king indeed, Arthur thought, and certainly much nicer than the scruffy linen rag Merlin usually wrapped around his neck.

“I’d like you to use what you have to cut and tailor a piece about this size for me,” Arthur directed, folding the silk into a suitable shape.

“Excellent your Highness. Would you like it to be embroidered with the royal crest? The gold of the dragon would certainly elevate this piece.”

“That won’t be necessary, I—” Arthur suddenly hesitated, struck with another thought. He reached for the small pouch he always kept on his belt and pulled something out.

“Actually yes, but not with the Pendragon crest. Would it possible to embroider this instead?” Arthur held out his palm for her to see what he meant. She leaned over for a better look, and her gaze softened. She gave Arthur a gentle smile.

“Of course, my Lord. It would be an honor.”

***************

Gaius frowned down at the large, fine drawstring bag as Arthur shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He had forced himself not to return to the markets after having paid quite a hefty fee for his latest purchase and had avoided visiting the physician’s chambers in the meantime as well. The commissioned neckerchief had been delivered this morning however, and Arthur had no good reason not to bring it by today.

Gaius looked up at him, troubled. “Sire, you’ve been very kind to bring by all of these gifts,” he began.

“I wouldn’t call them _gifts_ exactly,” Arthur interrupted, already not liking where this was going.

Gaius’ eyes flickered over to the small pile of still unopened parcels and back again.

“Of course, Sire,” Gaius continued uncertainly. “This, er, _offering_ , appears to be particularly extravagant. I daresay I recognize this bag as one of Madame Safira’s, who only sells the finest of garments.”

Arthur scoffed, trying to mask his discomfort. “Extravagant? You must be mistaken Gaius, why would I spend anything more than a coin on a servant who can’t even tell the difference between silver and gold.”

Gaius raised an eyebrow. “I see. Forgive me, I must be mistaken,” he said, in a voice that made it clear he knew very well that both of them knew he was not, in fact, mistaken. Arthur cleared his throat.

“WHAT ARE YOU TWO TALKING ABOUT WITHOUT ME?! I am awake you know! Gaius is keeping me trapped up here! I could’ve been back at work toda—” the yelling broke off into a string of rasping coughs.

Arthur let out a surprised chuckle as Gaius shook his head, the tension broken by Merlin's yell.

“As you can hear, he’s awake and in much better spirits today if you’d like to say hello. Bring this up to him as well, if you don’t mind.” Gaius turned and poured some kind of medicinal tea, and handed Arthur the steaming cup. Arthur took careful hold of it and moved toward Merlin’s room.

“Arthur!” Merlin lit up with a grin as Arthur stepped in. He was sat up in bed, leaning back against the pillows with an open book haphazardly strewn beside him. 

He broke off into another short round of rasping coughs before gratefully taking the tea Arthur offered him. Merlin took a careful sip and smiled through a wince. “It sounds much worse than it is. I’m feeling much better actually. I really should be back to work soon.”

“I’d tell you not to push yourself, but if I have to put up with your replacement any longer, I’m going back to that lake to drown myself.”

Merlin laughed, cheeks tinging pink. 

“Well we can’t have that.” They held each other’s gaze for a moment longer, Merlin’s grin fading into something softer. It was broken as Merlin let out another small cough and moved over to make room on the bed, setting his cup on the nightstand. Arthur stepped forward and sat down in the new space at the edge of the bed, smoothing the blanket down with one hand.

Merlin rubbed at the back of his neck. “Gaius told me it was you who brought the honey. I meant to thank you for that.”

“Yes, well, I just—” Arthur looked up. He felt an alarming sort of pressure in his chest, seeing Merlin as his usual bright-eyed self again after what felt like so long. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Merlin bit the inside of his cheek. He shifted, moving his hand until it pressed just ever so lightly against the side of Arthur’s own atop the bed.

They stayed like this, sharing in the easy silence.

Merlin tilted his head and tried to give Arthur a coy look, the effect ruined somewhat by the smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “So, you were saying something about how hard it’s been to replace me?”

Arthur groaned. “He must be the dullest and most proper servant to have ever served. You won’t believe what he did yesterday.” He began to regale the many tales of the overly courteous servant while Merlin listened eagerly, their hands remaining pressed together.

* * *

For the first time in two weeks, Arthur awoke to a loud clatter of a tray instead of the sound of a lute. He sat up immediately.

“You’re back!”

“I’m back,” Merlin replied stonily. He stood stock still by the table, lips pursed, and arms firmly crossed.

Merlin did not look happy to be back.

“You don’t look happy to be back.”

Merlin scowled. Ignoring the statement, he cocked his head at the table.

“I brought your breakfast.”

Arthur sighed, Merlin’s strange mood dampening his spirits. He slowly slid out of bed and padded over to the table under his manservant’s watchful gaze.

Ah.

There, piled neatly next to his breakfast—served, Arthur took a moment to be grateful, on a single plate—was all the new clothing Arthur had gifted the other man in the past two weeks. Merlin tracked his expression carefully.

Arthur swallowed, careful not to react. He pulled out the chair and slid into it.

“Sausages. Great.”

“Saus—Arthur!” Merlin exclaimed, abandoning his composure. “What is all of this!”

“Breakfast, according to you.”

Merlin glowered. “I mean _this_ ,” he gestured emphatically at the pile of clothes.

Arthur played dumb. “Ah. Yes. I believe those are _clothes_.” He picked up a fork and immediately fumbled it as Merlin slammed his palms down on the table.

“I know you know these are—they are very nice things. I can’t just accept these from you Arthur.”

Arthur was starting to lose his patience.

“I don’t see why not. You only think they’re nice because you’re used to wearing whatever tatters you get your hands on,” Arthur lied. “Besides, they’re not for _you_ , they’re really for me. This way I don’t have to listen to you complain the next time the sun is behind a cloud.”

Merlin didn’t look like he was buying this very clear explanation. He squinted suspiciously at the Prince.

“This feels like a trick. I won’t fall for it.”

Arthur ignored him, noticing something as he took a closer look at the pile closer. He frowned.

“Where are the socks?” Arthur asked, looking up at Merlin curiously.

Merlin’s ears went red and he opened and closed his mouth a few times at a loss for words. Arthur raised an eyebrow, bemused and even more curious now.

“I might be wearing them.”

Arthur blinked. “Even though you think I’m tricking you?”

“Well. Everyone knows socks can’t be a trick. They’re simply not trickable. Besides they were very warm. Anyway, that’s beside the point! Stop deflecting!”

Arthur rolled his eyes, secretly pleased to hear this, and took a bite from his roll. He chewed thoughtfully, staring at an increasingly flustered looking Merlin, and swallowed his bite before responding.

“You’re an idiot.”

Merlin’s eyes widened but Arthur cut him off before he could sputter a retort.

“I expect all of this to be gone when I get back from training. Now, are you going to join me for breakfast or stand there in protest?”

He returned to his meal, pretending not to hear Merlin’s frustrated sigh. He did, however, push his plate over to sit between them as Merlin slid into a seat so that the other man could pick off slices of pear and cheese. Slowly Merlin relaxed and soon began to animatedly describe the horrific medicines and remedies Gaius had forced upon him the last few weeks, imitating the old physician’s voice so poorly Arthur nearly knocked over his cup in laughter.

And later, when Arthur returned from practice, the pile of new clothes was gone.

* * *

Merlin may have taken the refined clothes back, but he remained distrustful of them. He had made sure not to wear anything new (asides from the socks of course) (they really were very warm) and eyed Arthur warily over the next week wondering if he would bring it up. Arthur hadn’t of course, which did nothing to ease Merlin’s apprehension.

Of course, apprehension over _what_ he couldn’t say. He just knew this was very unlike Arthur. Not that Arthur couldn’t be thoughtful at times, but he didn’t give _gifts_. Least of all gifts made of the warmest material Merlin had felt outside of Arthur’s own wardrobe. The clothes were so fine that even Gaius had hummed warily as he watched Merlin open the packages over breakfast, the morning he was allowed back to work. Gaius! So obviously Merlin was right to suspect that something was up.

*****

“Don’t you agree?”

Gwaine, brow furrowed and a confused smile on his face, nodded uneasily. He was a little preoccupied with how he had ended up here. Not in a tavern, as that was fairly obvious, but listening to Merlin regale his latest quandary instead of helping Gwaine woo the gorgeous barmaid.

He realized Merlin was still waiting for an answer.

“If you say so.”

Merlin nodded gravely at the support.

*****

The week had thus passed without further incident, and the days grew only shorter and colder. One of these mornings, Merlin glanced at the pile in his cupboard and hesitated briefly before grabbing the gloves and shoving them into his jacket pocket. He refrained from using them until Arthur forced him outside for a training with the knights. Merlin slipped them out and tugged them on surreptitiously. They were delightfully soft and warm. He caught Arthur glance over, noticing the gloves partway through a break and Merlin glared back, daring him to say something. But Arthur stayed quiet, the only sign he noticed anything the lopsided smile that wouldn’t leave his face for the rest of training and a good mood that lasted for the rest of the day.

*****

“But I figured it was his usual taking pleasure in my pain sort of thing.”

Gwaine took a large gulp of the ale in front of him, which Merlin appeared to decide was the vigorous agreement he needed to go on. 

*****

And so, Merlin was lulled into a sense of false security. The cloak made its first appearance after Arthur volunteered them to take some supplies to a small hamlet suffering a food shortage due to the recent blizzards in the area, wanting to personally check on the villagers himself. With Gaius’ chiding and his own memory of his recent sickness, Merlin put on the heavy blue cloak before setting out.

Arthur had found him packing up the horses in the barn. Merlin tensed, sensing his presence, and turned apprehensively, preparing for some sort of teasing.

Instead he was met with wide, startled blue eyes staring back at him. Arthur took him in from head to toe, a slow flush creeping onto his face. Merlin stood still, baffled at the reaction. Arthur finally seemed to catch himself and cleared his throat.

“Warm enough then?”

Merlin nodded hesitantly in response.

Leon walked up next to them holding the reins of his own horse. He looked between the two of them in concern.

*****

“That alone! You weren’t there but Leon must have seen, I’m sure. It was strange, very, very strange,” Merlin proclaimed emphatically. “I mean, he _did_ expect me to wear the cloak, right? Why else would he have given it to me? Unless of course, I was right, and this was a trick all along! You should have _seen_ the look he gave me.”

Gwaine turned back towards his rambling friend from where he had been making eyes with the maiden across the tavern. “Leon just told me he found the both of you flushed and stammering at each other and felt bad for interrupting.”

Merlin flushed and started stammering. “I—That’s—that’s not what it was at all! Anyway—”

*****

The trip to the village continued in the same vein. Merlin could feel Arthur’s eyes on him all throughout the ride. Every time he tried to risk a peek, trying to catch Arthur’s eye, Arthur would look away. He wasn’t sure if it was the constant looks or the cloak itself, but Merlin certainly felt heated throughout the trek.

*****

Gwaine raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Heated huh?”

Merlin dragged a hand through his hair. “Not like—I was embarrassed!”

Gwaine hummed consideringly.

*****

They were met with a palpable relief on their arrival to the village. The younger men and women came to unload the cart of supplies. Merlin swung down from his horse and grabbed his bag of medical supplies.

“Merlin, over here,” Arthur called. He stood a few paces away, in low conversation with a tall, middle-aged women, wrapped in a brown shawl. Merlin jogged over, the crisp air biting at his nose and cheeks.

Arthur clapped him on the shoulder as he neared.

“Jana, this is Merlin, our court physician’s apprentice. He will be happy to take a look at your brother’s leg.” Merlin gave the woman a kind smile which she returned.

“Oh, thank you,” Jana said. “I’ll go along then and let him know you will be coming by. We’re in the hut right by the barn.”

“Great. He’ll be along soon,” Arthur replied pleasantly, cutting Merlin off before he could offer to go with her now.

Jana gave a polite curtsy and left.

Merlin glanced at the hand still resting on his shoulder and cocked his head at Arthur curiously. The prince quickly let go and crossed his arms.

“Any reason you didn’t want me to go off with Jana? Making her brother suffer longer isn’t very princely of you.”

Arthur gave an exasperated sigh. “Don’t be stupid Merlin. I just wanted to check on you. See how you’re holding up. It’s your first journey out this winter since you, you know.”

Merlin furrowed his brow. “You mean since I caught cold from falling into the lake?” Arthur shrugged noncommittally, tempting Merlin to tease him for this sudden bout of strange overprotectiveness. Something in the line of Arthur’s shoulders stopped him. Merlin gave a cautious half-smile instead.

“Yeah Arthur, I’m fine. Still warm enough, I promise.”

Arthur coughed. “Good, good. Then you better be off. I wouldn’t want Jana’s brother to suffer any longer,” he said quirking his eyebrow.

Merlin elbowed him in response and took off in the direction Jana had gone before Arthur could retaliate.

*****

Merlin quieted for a moment. Gwaine waited patiently, gesturing silently at the barmaid to bring them another round.

“That was actually kind of nice,” Merlin said quietly.

*****

The bone had already been set properly. Merlin tightened the fastenings a little and showed Jana what to check to see when it should be loosened or tightened accordingly. He applied some black ointment to prevent any infection, talking to the brother, Jarin, about his pain levels, before taking out some herbs.

“These will help with the pain some, although it will make him tired. I’ll show you how to make it into a tea for him to try now. Usually if he can tolerate the pain, its best to give just one cup at night to help him sleep,” he told Jana. She nodded and watch attentively as he showed her how much of the herbs to add to the hot water. When it was ready, he kneeled down to help Jarin sit up to drink.

The bearded man cupped the tea appreciatively. “Thank you, Merlin. You’ve been a great help. It’s good to see Jana at ease for this first time since my accident. The Prince is fortunate to have you as his physician.”

Merlin grinned. “It’s my pleasure. Although I’m not a physician yet, merely Prince Arthur’s manservant.”

“Oh, but he seems to have a great deal of respect for you. You should have heard the Prince Jarin, he sounded quite fond of Merlin here. I’m sure you will have a place on the royal council in due time.”

The corner of Merlin’s mouth quirked up in a half smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He could think of quite an important reason why that was unlikely to ever happen, due time or no. He kept this to himself.

“We’ll see! What others mistake as fondness is often Arthur’s special brand of exasperation I seem to bring out in him,” Merlin said adding a wink.

The two siblings gave an amused chuckle. Merlin turned to begin packing his bag with the leftover supplies, readying himself to go around the village and see if there was anyone else who could use a visit. Jana however, appeared to have other ideas.

“Have you married?”

Merlin looked up with a start. “Me? Oh, no,” he replied, fumbling the bottle of ointment.

Jana tapped a finger against her chin. “A sweetheart then surely.”

“I’m afraid not,” Merlin said slowly, carefully placing the last of the ointment in the bag and closing it up.

“Leave the poor boy alone Jana.”

“Oh, I don’t mean to embarrass you, it’s just your cloak.”

“My cloak?”

“Yes, the color so beautifully brings out your eyes. That kind of thought made me think a woman was involved, one sweet on you enough to notice those kinds of things.”

Merlin’s ears reddened.

“Or it could be a gift from his mother, Jana.”

“Yes of course.”

There was a pause and Merlin realized both Jana and Jarin were looking at him expectantly. He flushed further.

“I—it was a gift, yes, but not from my mother.”

“Oh?” Jana’s eyes gleamed victoriously at her brother. “So, it could be from someone sweet on you?”

Merlin chuckled uneasily, twisting the fabric of the cloak in question in his hand. “I’m fairly sure not, seeing as Prince Arthur was the one who gave it to me.”

*****

Merlin paused and looked up. Gwaine, chin in hand, stared back with warm amusement. 

“I tried to explain that it was because I had fallen into the lake, or at least I think it was, but I think they got the idea that Arthur had pushed me in or something,” Merlin sighed.

*****

Arthur, Merlin, and the knights sheltered in the barn for the night, the walls a good protection from the cold wind and light snowfall that had begun come nightfall. The only catch was that with all the hay, they weren’t able to light a proper fire.

Merlin lay on his back taking in the rafters. He could already hear Gwaine starting to snore and turned onto his side, pulling his fur-lined hood more firmly over his ears to muffle the sound. He blinked, his eyes adjusting in the low light to take in Arthur lying awake a few feet away, silently observing.

*****

“And that’s just it! Ever since he gave me all this, he won’t stop staring! It’s like he’s afraid I’ll ruin them any chance I get.”

“Merlin, my friend. There’s a lot of things I’m willing to believe in this world, but this is not one of them,” Gwaine said dryly, scratching at his beard.

“That Arthur would torment me?” Merlin said in disbelief.

“That Arthur could possibly be staring at you even _more_ than usual. The man has to sleep sometime after all.”

Merlin hunched his shoulders up defensively. “That’s not—we’re not—we don’t talk about that Gwaine!”

“Oh?” The knight leaned forward. “Because it seems to me, that’s exactly what we’re talking about.”

Merlin didn’t have anything to say to that. He crossed his arms in a huff and murmured what were certainly curses under his breath. A moment later, the bench Gwaine was sitting suddenly collapsing a few moments later, sending the man to the floor with a yelp.

* * *

Weeks passed and the first of the Yuletide celebrations was fast approaching, and everyone was racing around to finish preparations. Merlin found himself leaning against Guinevere’s table as she pulled out a dress she had only just managed to finish making for the occasion before her duties took up all of her time.

“That looks really beautiful Gwen.”

Guinevere beamed at her friend, smoothing out the skirt.

“You think so? I mean it’s really just one of Lady Morgana’s old things, she was kind enough to hand down to me, but I did have to rework the bodice and I embroidered the flowers along the skirt—”

She stopped mid-sentence as Merlin rested a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Really Gwen. I won’t be surprised if they mistake you for royalty and yell at me for bothering you.”

Guinevere laughed, a pleased and embarrassed blush settling on her cheeks. “Look who’s talking! I wonder if I’ll see you come out adorned in furs and jewels with what Arthur’s gifted you lately.”

“If he tried anything of the sort, he knows I would set them all on fire, publicly, right there in the courtyard,” Merlin sniped back, shaking his head.

“Ah of course,” Guinevere said rolling her eyes. “I must have you confused with another manservant who has been singing odes to how warm all of his new clothes—handpicked by the Prince would you know—have been keeping him.”

Merlin scowled and avoided her gaze, ears reddening. “He just got tired of me griping about the cold was all,” he mumbled. Guinevere ignored the old excuse.

She eyed Merlin for a moment longer as she folded the dress, watching as he picked at the grain of the table.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Merlin didn’t look up.

“ _Merlin_.”

“It’s nothing.” Merlin crossed his arms.

“If you say so,” Guinevere tucked away the dress and turned back to face her friend. She hesitated. “You know you can tell me anything right?”

Merlin held out for just a moment longer under those kind, brown eyes. He sighed and uncrossed his arms in defeat. “There’s just—there was something else.”

“What do you mean?”

“Arthur gave me something else. I haven’t worn it yet though.”

“Why not?”

Merlin shrugged half-heartedly. He didn’t know how to explain Gaius’ reaction when he had shown him the neckerchief, the way the old man had cupped one hand over his mouth in surprise while the other delicately traced the golden design delicately embroidered into the fabric. Gaius had refused to explain its significance and had instead taken to watching Merlin with an unreadable expression.

Guinevere gave a thoughtful hum, breaking Merlin out of his thoughts. “Whatever the reason is, I think you should go ahead and wear it for Yuletide. Everyone will have had too much drink to remember much if it really turns out to be that garish. Even the other servants, if the rumors about Gallen from the stables brewing his own mead prove to be true.”

Merlin laughed softly. “As always, you’re right Gwen. What would I do without you?” 

“Oh, perish in a pile of dirty laundry probably,” she teased.

* * *

All Arthur had wanted to do was make sure his manservant didn’t die an early death from a simple cold. He had done a _nice_ thing as far as he was concerned, buying the man some warm clothes. He didn’t understand why the gods had decided to punish him for it.

But they had, and Arthur was suffering.

Merlin stepped back from refilling Arthur’s goblet, frowning at the intense expression on Arthur’s face. He moved one hand from the wine jug to adjust the neckerchief self-consciously, which broke Arthur’s trance enough to look away. He turned his head back towards the feast, only to catch Morgana raising a disdainful eyebrow at him from across the table. Arthur reached out and took a large gulp of the wine.

Suffering indeed.

The gloves were one thing. Arthur was just glad Merlin had stopped thinking he had cursed the damn things and started wearing them. If he was being honest, he did actually miss Merlin shoving his freezing hands into his face so he could _feel how unreasonably cold it is Sire_ , but seeing Merlin’s small exhale and absent smile whenever he pulled the gloves on was replacement enough. The cloak was another story itself. As he had bought it knowing the color reminded him of Merlin, Arthur really had no reason to have been caught as off guard as he had seeing the way it illuminated Merlin’s eyes.

But none of that compared to the damned _neckerchief._

He shifted in his seat and snuck another glance back at Merlin.

“ _What_?” Merlin hissed.

Arthur pretended not to hear him and turned away. He could hear Merlin let out a huff of frustration.

“A toast!” Uther announced, standing up. Merlin took this as an opportunity to edge out from behind Arthur, moving towards the corner of the room.

“I am overjoyed to celebrate this evening with you all, a welcome occasion amid such a bleak winter. I would especially like to toast our friends joining us from the North…”

Arthur tuned his father out, making sure to at least keep his glass raised and a smile pasted on his face as he cast his gaze over to Merlin yet again. Arthur had actually given up on ever seeing Merlin wear the damned thing. He figured Merlin had just hated it, maybe looked too much like the ceremonial servant robes, too much in jest. Merlin had no reason to know after all, what the embroidery meant.

He had let it go, was the point, and could hardly have been prepared to see Merlin arrive in the hall wearing his usual clothes with one small exception. A vibrant exception wrapped elegantly around his long neck. 

Merlin caught him staring again. He glared at Arthur and took a brazen sip of wine from the jug he held. Arthur forced himself to look away. 

***************

The night had advanced from dinner into dancing. Dancing and standing around that is, as Merlin stuck close to Guinevere and as far away from Arthur and his ridiculously intense gaze as he could manage. Still, if the burning feeling on the left side of his face was any indication, he was still being watched.

“I don’t _understand_ him Gwen, why would he give it to me if he didn’t want me to wear it!”

Guinevere smiled politely at the noblewoman approaching her and refilled the offered goblet. She gave Merlin a puzzled look.

“Why do you think he doesn’t want you to wear it? It’s absolutely lovely Merlin, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Haven’t you seen the way he’s been glaring at me all night?! I can feel him doing it now, look over and see for yourself.”

He watched her face as Guinevere glanced away and then back. “You see?”

“I really don’t think—”

Frustrated, Merlin turned to see for himself and immediately locked eyes with the prince. Arthur stood amidst a small throng of nobles, including the visiting Dukes, ignoring them all to hold Merlin’s gaze across the crowd with an unreadable intensity that had Merlin forget how to breathe. He reached up absently to tug at his silk kerchief, biting his lip at the way it drew Arthur’s attention.

And then at once, Arthur’s expression changed to something akin to horror. Merlin felt even more confused. He started to mouth a question or possibly an insult when—

“You. Gaius’ boy, are you not?”

Merlin froze.

He felt Arthur could have deigned to look a little more horrified if it was indeed Uther standing in front of him.

He slowly turned his head away from an aghast Arthur who appeared to be trying to walk through a table to get to him and faced the King. Uther stood in front of him in all his glory, crown placed perfectly although the smell of wine indicated a far less composed King than Merlin was used to. He felt more than saw Guinevere inch away from them.

“Yes, your Majesty,” he replied, remembering to at least bow his head.

Uther reached out and flicked Merlin’s neckerchief as he took a swig from his cup.

“Where did you get this remarkable piece? The craftmanship is extraordinary.”

Merlin gulped. “It was a gift, your Majesty.”

“Indeed. I doubt anyone of your station could come upon such a thing honestly.”

Merlin gritted his teeth and stayed silent.

He tensed as he felt Uther lean forward to trace the golden embroidery.

“This design, it’s…very unique. I dare say it reminds me of my late wife.” Uther remarked almost absently.

“Your—your wife?” Merlin replied without thinking, his voice threatening to crack at his surprise.

“Yes, my beloved Ygraine,” his finger paused on the thread of the bird’s wing. “She loved all kinds of winged creatures, always nursing even the smallest sparrow back to health. She was full of such love. I see it in Arthur, that love, always trying to mend even the lowliest broken wings.”

He sighed heavily at his musings and let his hand drop from Merlin’s neck, much to the younger man’s great relief. Uther took another swig of wine and stared doubtfully at the servant in front of him. “Strange to see such a reminder of her on a servant. One with some sort of affliction if I remember correctly.”

Merlin did his best to give his most idiotic grin in response, a bead of sweat gathering at his temple.

“Father! There you are,” a harried Arthur broke in at that moment, quite possibly saving Merlin’s entire life. “The Duke of Asgorath was asking for you. He wanted to speak of some new mines discovered in the lower mountains. Good news, he assured me.” Arthur gripped his father’s shoulder and began to steer him away, presumably towards to Duke.

“Always time to hear good news on good nights like these. Although if he’s with his hideous wife I don’t know if I can stand it.”

“Rest assured father, his wife was feeling tired from the travel and has already turned in.” The two of them moved off, Arthur turning back for just a moment to send a sheepish look back at Merlin.

Merlin stood feeling more than a little lost and bewildered and a little less grateful for not having drowned in that lake a few weeks ago. 

***************

Merlin could barely hold himself back on the walk up to Arthur's chambers. His fingers itched with the desire to tear the stupid thing off his neck. His mind raced as he thought of all the ways he was going to confront Arthur about what had happened tonight.

The rest of the night had passed largely without incident, or, at least, nothing close to surmounting the King approaching and casually mentioning his new neckerchief reminded him of his dead wife. He hadn’t seen much of Arthur after that until he appeared saying it was time to turn in for the night. 

The door closed behind them, and the two of them stood in tense, awkward silence for a moment.

Arthur forced a yawn. “I have to say I’m exhausted from—"

“Here! Take it back!” Merlin ripped the cloth off from around his neck and threw it at Arthur. He startled but caught it with one hand clutching it against his chest.

“You obviously regret giving me this! And I’ll give the other stuff back too! Maybe not the socks. Alright, definitely not the socks. I didn’t ask for any of this in the first place, I don’t know why you thought it would be a good idea!”

“What are you talking about?” Arthur said, sounding as perplexed as he looked. His eyes tracked Merlin’s bared neck distractedly.

“You’ve been staring at m—it all night! I told you I shouldn’t have accepted any of this and I was a fool to think you would do something nice and you really did make me think you were—that it was—I thought maybe you also—that this was your way of showing you—you care—but then you’ve been so weird about me using any of it and obviously you regret this, whatever this is. I mean, Arthur, is it really your mother’s s— _are you even listening to me?_ ”

Having in fact, fully stopped listening to whatever foolish nonsense had been coming out of his idiot manservant’s mouth, Arthur had stepped towards Merlin who had stepped back in turn until he found himself pressed firmly up against the wall. Having successfully trapped him, Arthur took the opportunity to carefully rewrap the kerchief around his neck again. Merlin tensed at the movement and leaned back on his heels but didn’t do anything further to stop him. Arthur tugged at the silk, the fabric settled so the golden bird in flight was properly displayed, while Merlin watched frozen, at a loss for words.

Finally, Arthur leaned back to examine his handiwork, dropping one hand while the other kept a loose grip on the red silk. He gave a satisfied nod and looked up, straight at Merlin. Merlin felt his mouth go dry at the resolute expression in Arthur’s eyes.

“I don’t regret anything.”

Merlin’s breath caught in his throat. Arthur held his gaze for another moment, before dropping down, his grip slackening as he let go of the silk to step back.

Before he could think twice, Merlin reached up and grasped at Arthur’s hand to hold it in place.

Arthur’s gaze shot back up. His lips parted in surprise, drawing Merlin’s focus to them.

Merlin swallowed heavily and glanced back up. Arthur’s expression darkened. He slowly slid his hand higher up to cup Merlin’s face, the pad of his thumb stroking lightly along his jaw line. Merlin shivered at the touch, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He gripped Arthur’s forearm tightly.

Merlin wondered if Arthur could feel how fast his heart was beating.

He wet his lips and gasped when Arthur listed forward, close enough that their noses just brushed, and Merlin’s vision blurred. He blinked unsteadily, wondering if he should—

“Shut up,” Arthur murmured, eyes half-lidded.

“I didn’t _sa—_ ”

Arthur cut him off with a kiss.

Merlin let out a soft moan and tipped forward into it, eyes shuttering closed. His left hand scrabbled at the wall behind him for leverage before he pressed forward and moved it up around Arthur’s shoulder to clutch at the back of his tunic. Their lips met and released, met and released, over and over in a series of small kisses, each lingering longer than the last, growing more heated until their mouths met in a deep, open-mouthed caress.

Merlin broke off panting, tilting his head up to catch his breath. Undeterred, Arthur began trailing kisses along his jaw, lingering at the juncture of his neck to suck a lovebite into the skin.

“Arth—” he tried, breaking off into a whimper as the other man dragged his earlobe between his teeth. “Arthur, wait.”

Arthur stopped, breathing heavily.

“Was all this really because of what happened? Because I caught cold?”

Arthur rested his head against Merlin’s temple. “I worry about you,” Arthur admitted into his hair, after a brief silence.

Merlin tugged at his arm until Arthur reluctantly stepped back, putting some space between them. Merlin slipped his hand down Arthur’s shoulder to rest carefully over his heart. 

“Well,” he began, looking up at Arthur from under his lashes, “If that’s the case I have plenty of other ideas as to how to best warm me up.” 

He waggled his eyebrows with a grin as Arthur snorted, shaking his head.

“Idiot,” he muttered fondly, before dragging Merlin into another kiss as they stumbled their way over to the bed.

* * *

It became quite a familiar sight that winter, to see Merlin in his blue cloak at Arthur’s side. His new neckerchief made less appearances, reserved for what appeared to be special occasions. The socks, unbeknownst to most, were worn quite regularly for the rest of the winter.

The gloves however, suffered a mysterious disappearance. There were whispers of an oddly similar pair turning up in a small village on the border of Cendred’s kingdom, accompanied by a letter written with the scrawl of an overjoyed young man.

But these were just rumors, of course.

Fortunately, on the occasion it became too cold for Merlin and his gloveless hands, it seemed Arthur was always there to hold them.


End file.
